


The Ice King and the Dragon Queen

by DracoIgnis



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Battle, Dragons, F/M, Jonerys, King Jon Snow, Marriage, Prophecies, Queen Daenerys, Travels, Winterfell, fairy tale, negotiation, relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 20:10:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20570168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoIgnis/pseuds/DracoIgnis
Summary: Once upon a time, the Ice King of the North had to travel to see the Dragon Queen of the South to request her assistance in the battle against the dead. An illustrated Jonerys fairy tale.





	The Ice King and the Dragon Queen

..

Once upon a time in the far North, where the snow never stops falling and all buildings are clad in ice, sat a man in a great hall feasting with his men. The man had raven hair and grave eyes, and he sat at the main table although he was no lord, for he was named King by the men before him. The man’s name was Jon, and he was troubled.

Winter had arrived at Winterfell, but the North knew winter well, hence it was not the season darkening his mind. The King had heard tales about dead men rising from the ice, and though no man could yet prove to have seen these creatures, the history books spoke of such occurrences.

Jon was a fighter with a gleaming sword named Longclaw, and his men too came from brave houses, but according to his maester none of this would matter.

Maester Aemon told him: “My King, these are dark times, and they grow darker by the day. If we are to see the sun shine once again, we must defeat the evil from beyond the Wall.”

“What can defeat what not even death could claim?” Jon asked.

Aemon replied: “Only rain quenches a drought. Only love overcomes hate. Only fire will melt the ice.”

“Though wood is scarce, we have fire,” Jon spoke. This was true; alongside every hall in Winterfell, and there were more of these than can be counted by a common man, flickered a torch. In every chamber a fireplace was ablaze. Even in the courtyard a great fire roared, warming those unable to attend the meal inside.

“Common fire will not kill the dead,” spoke the maester. “Only flames breathed by a dragon can give these men peace.”

“There are only three dragons in the Seven Kingdoms,” spoke Jon, “and they are guarded by their Queen. But it shall be so; I will set out first thing tomorrow.”

“I will gift you this for your journey,” Aemon said as he presented the King with a bag. It was a knapsack of worn leather with a rusty clasp keeping it shut. “This will grant you four things you need for your travels. What these things are, I do not know. Whenever you are in need, reach into the bag, and you shall find your way forward. But use it with care - for only four gifts shall emerge, then no more.”

The King thanked the maester for his kindness and then set off to bed. He was still troubled as the night carried on, but with the knapsack at his side, he felt a little more at peace.

..

At the break of dawn, the King set out on his journey. To avoid attracting attention, he kept his company small; to his right rode his Hand Ser Davos, a man whose guidance he knew to be fair, and on his left trudged his trusted direwolf Ghost, a large white beast with eyes as red as blood.

For the first seven days they travelled at sunrise and settled at sunset, finding shelter at inns along the way. In these lands, the King was well known and liked by the people, so food was served aplenty and the bed always free of charge. In the evenings, as the townspeople gathered around their table, the King spoke to the worried folk, promising them peace and prosperity. He assured them he was seeking to fight their cause down South, and no man questioned his words. Wherever they went, they were met with smiles, and the bards sung songs of praise:

> The King, His Grace  
Born from Ice  
In him we Trust  
The North shall Rise
> 
> The King, His Grace  
Fighting the Fight  
Akin the Gods  
He leads us Right

For the following seven days, the daylight hours seemed to stretch further into the evenings, and ice started melting off the roads. Hardened weirwood trees were replaced by hundreds of rivers, fresh grasslands and fields of corn and barley. Instead of feasting on blood sausages and potatoes, the King and Ser Davos were served fish and fresh vegetables. However much they likened the change to their meals, they also sensed a change to the folk surrounding them. The King’s face was known, but his powers did not reach into the riverlands, and here the people were wary. In the evenings, no one gathered by their table, and the bards sung songs of caution:

> Kings and Queens  
Who can Recall  
Which one will Rise  
Which one will Fall
> 
> Kings and Queens  
Are sure to Battle  
And smallfolk will Fall  
Akin to Cattle

Seven more days followed of rivers and roads leading through thick woodlands. At Ser Davos’ advice, they spent that night sleeping under the stars. He said:

“In the North, you are a hero. But the further South we travel, the less power your title of King carries. You have no royal blood to speak of, and no family name attached to your claim. Many here do not know of your face.”

“This is true,” agreed Jon.

“I suggest we hold our coin. Men of the North are not known for their riches. To pay our way as we have before would arise suspicion.”

“Yet we must find a way to get presented to the Queen,” Jon spoke. “I have heard she is kind, but this does not mean she is not cautious. Why should she welcome a stranger?”

“To present yourself as King could cause undue trouble,” Ser Davos warned.

For days, the King’s mind had found peace in the surroundings, but at his Hands’ words it was as if his troubles returned at once. As their bonfire died out, he buried himself in Ghost’s warm fur and answered the silent night: “Yet to deny my claim could mean the end of the North.”

..

As the sun rose, they were awakened by the sound of galloping horses. Light was still sparse in the thick of the wood, so the King and Ser Davos stepped into the bushes with their hands on the sword hilts in preparation for a fight.

At first, they could see nothing in between the trees, but then an entourage of men appeared. Each was clad in shiny armour decorated with fine stones, and each was atop a strong white stallion neighing with fury. As the men noticed the King and Ser Davos, they turned their horses and rode through the shrubs to surround them. Jon counted at least thirty men, but it was the man atop a black stallion who demanded their attention.

“If you planned an ambush, you should’ve brought more men,” he spoke, riding into the midst of the circle to stop before the King. “Who are you?”

Jon looked upon the man. He was dressed in hardened leather, his brown hair was roughly chopped at his nape, and his dark eyes were filled with suspicion. His hand rested at his belt where he held not a sword but an arakh. Jon wondered if he was from outside the Seven Kingdoms.

It was Ser Davos who spoke: “We wish no fight. We are mere travellers on our way to King’s Landing.”

“I have never met a traveller carrying fine steel,” spoke the man and pointed to Jon’s sword. “However I have met thieves who claimed such possessions to be their own. I shall only ask once more - who are you?”

Jon knew he could not fight off thirty men, yet he could not admit his kinghood either. As Ser Davos had warned, speaking of the North in these parts could cause trouble, and now they were looking at said problem.

As the man’s face grew impatient, Jon remembered maester Aemon’s words and he reached into the knapsack at his side. His fingertips closed around a small, cold form, and as he held out his hand, he presented the man with a ring.

The sunlight from above fell through the leaves, and it made the golden jewelry shine. It was a man’s ring, thick and smooth, and atop it carried the Targaryen sigil; a three headed dragon, the eyes decorated with rubies.

The man’s face turned pale. “Forgive me,” he spoke, “I did not know you represent the Queen. My name is Daario Naharis. How can I be of assistance?”

“We wish only to travel in peace,” Jon spoke.

“It shall be so. Please allow me to lead you through the woods, for there are many more men heading this way who will make the same mistake. Should hardship befall you, I would blame myself for not helping.”

“Forgive me, but I thought these woods were no longer well travelled,” spoke Ser Davos.

The man looked surprised. “Surely you jest, Ser? After the Queen’s announcement, men from all of the Seven Kingdoms and beyond now travel these roads daily. Albeit rough, it is the most direct route.”

“You too travel for this reason?” spoke Jon, choosing his words with care not to reveal that they did not know of any announcement.

“Why of course. A marriage to the Queen? What foolish man would not present himself at this opportunity!”

..

They bid their farewells at the edge of the woods, and the King and Ser Davos watched the men ride off into the distance.

“The Queen is to be married?” Ser Davos spoke once he was certain they were alone. “Why, this is the perfect guise to meet her.”

“I do not wish to play her for a fool,” Jon spoke.

“You would only do so if she wishes to take your hand,” Ser Davos said. “Besides, I am sure many men will approach King’s Landing at this proclamation. We shall hide ourselves amongst them.”

The King seemed less certain. “Truly? How many eligible lords reside in the Seven Kingdoms?” he asked.

Ser Davos smiled: “My King, who said anything about lords?”

The King had brought Ser Davos along for his guidance, and as always it turned out to be correct. As they rode toward King’s Landing, they passed many lords dressed in their finest garb preparing for an audience with the Queen. These lords were either atop the finest stallions known to man, or they rode inside carriages decorated with gold, and all of them were followed by their soldiers and liegemen. They made for an impressive sight.

However they met many more common men; burly smiths dressed in homemade armour, and farmers riding carriages filled with whatever little they owned, and peasants, hundreds of them, walking on their own two feet only, their belongings fitting into a single sack in their hand.

Though most had never seen the Queen, bards danced along the way, begging for coin as they sung songs of promise:

> The Queen, the Queen  
With silver Hair  
Her rule is Strong  
Her skin is Fair
> 
> The Queen, the Queen  
A sight to See  
All dressed in White  
A bride to Be

“I worry she shall have no time to speak to me,” Jon said as they stopped for the night. Although they had decided to spend some coin on an inn, they had been unable to find anywhere with a bed still available. Even the stables were filled to the brim with men seeking shuteye on the hay, the horses left to fend for themselves in the summer night.

Instead, they camped by the roadside, watching as some men continued to walk through the falling darkness.

“You will have to compete for her attention,” Ser Davos agreed. “But I cannot imagine that she will see each and every one of these men.”

“I just don’t understand,” Jon spoke as he rested his head between his hands and glanced into the flames of the bonfire. “From the tales I’ve heard about the Queen, she was never described for her looks, only her power, her kindness, and her justice. Now, every bard in the kingdom sings of her silver hair and violet eyes.”

“Most men marry for beauty or wealth,” Ser Davos said. “It would make no sense for them to sing of her rule.”

“That is what I don’t get,” Jon spoke.

“Forgive me, my King, but I do not follow?”

The King furrowed his brows as he scowled at the fire in thought. “Why would a powerful Queen invite every man in the Seven Kingdoms to beg for her hand? It seems not a wise thing to do.”

“My King, you are without a bride yourself. Perhaps akin to you, she has not met someone for whom her heartbeat quickens. Perhaps she only wishes for someone to make her with child. It is not for us to worry about. Keep your eyes on our goal - we need her dragons.”

“Perhaps,” Jon nodded, but as Ser Davos drifted off to sleep, he remained awake. Once the flames died out, he glanced toward the starry sky instead, and wondered: “Why can I not rid myself of this feeling of unrest?”

.-.

Before they reached King’s Landing, chaos unfolded before them.

It was as if overnight a town had grown around the capital itself; a town of tents, and tables filled with merchants’ wares, joustings knights on the fields proving their valour, lords and ladies seeking to secure their offsprings’ claim through agreements with other houses, children playing on the road, peasants drinking in the ditch.

The King and Ser Davos rode slowly through the makeshift place, Ghost leading the way as his size forced the crowds to part before them. Wherever they looked, there was something anew to look upon, and this change from the cold, silent North almost overwhelmed Jon.

“My people are preparing to fight for their lives,” he spoke, “whilst here no one feels hardship.”

“I hear the Queen is supported by the Golden Company,” Ser Davos spoke. “No doubt it has impacted the coin coming through the city.”

“I suppose not every man could fit beyond the city walls,” Jon said, “so instead here they camp. I wish not to be one of them, I must hurry home as soon as I can.”

“Then think quickly,” Ser Davos said and gestured ahead.

The King brought his horse to a halt as they stood before the city walls. Here, the main entrance had been shut, and sellswords from the Golden Company stood aplenty blocking the little side entrance. Every man who approached them was questioned and, Jon noted after a few minutes of observation, more often than not turned away.

“There are seven gates,” Ser Davos reminded him. “My King, perhaps another will be less protected?”

The King looked around them. As far as his eyes could see, tents and market stalls stretched around the walls, and so did a thick line of sellswords. “I am afraid you might be in the wrong,” Jon spoke. “One gate is as good as the other. I must find my way in.”

“State your purpose!” a man roared.

Only then did Jon realise that he had been approached. Two sellswords clad in gold stood before him, their eyes barely visible through the narrow holes in their helmets.

“We wish to trade,” Ser Davos said.

“You can join the market behind you,” the men advised.

“Our wares are fine,” Ser Davos pressed on, “we only wish to speak to shopkeepers.”

“Force me not to repeat myself twice,” the men warned, their hands on the hilt of their swords.

Jon knew he had to interrupt. “Sers,” he spoke and got off his horse. Before the broad men, he appeared small; he was at least a head shorter than both, and his simple black clothing and cloak no match for their thick armour. Somehow, it seemed they realised this too as the men relaxed. For the moment, their hands left their swords. “Forgive us, we have travelled a long way. We need to go beyond the city walls. We have good coin.”

“Many have good coin. Did you not see the lords when you rode here?” one of the men asked. “The Queen has commanded that no more men are allowed into the city.”

“Surely this must be a mistake,” Ser Davos spoke. “Is she not seeking marriage?”

The men scowled, and they both knew at once that he had spoken in error. “Our orders are not to be questioned,” the sellswords spoke, drawing their swords. “If it is trouble you seek, we shall comply!”

In that moment, Jon’s fingertips brushed across the knapsack at his side, and he once more recalled maester Aemon’s words. He swiftly pushed his hand into the bag and retrieved a scroll.

As he offered it to the men, he could tell their hesitation, for it carried the Targaryen seal.

“Please, Sers,” he spoke, “I did not wish to show you this, but we have been officially invited. Read and you shall see.”

Urged on by the King’s earnestness, one of the men accepted the scroll, broke the seal and read the content within. What it said, neither Jon nor Ser Davos knew, and they were not offered a peek themselves. Instead, they were quickly ushered inside the side gate, much to the uproar from the people behind them.

“We too wish to be let inside!” men shouted. “We too wish to see the Queen!” But the door was shut behind them, and Jon, Ser Davos and Ghost found themselves alone on the streets of King’s Landing.

..

“I only have two gifts left,” Jon spoke that night.

They were seated in an inn within the walls, dining on the local stew and ale. They had not dared to spend their coin on better food, so they filled their mouths with thick grub whilst looking longingly at the table next to them where a lord was stuffing himself with veal.

“Well, we have made the journey,” Ser Davos spoke. “Perhaps you will not even need it.”

“Aye, we’ve made the journey, yet my travels are not over,” Jon spoke. “Do you not find the situation strange?”

“I find it wiser not to speak,” Ser Davos said and stuffed his mouth with bread.

Jon glanced around them, just to ensure no one was listening, before he too dipped back into his food.

They had wandered the streets of King’s Landing for hours and found the place to be strangely empty. In comparison to the many men they had seen approach, few had made it inside the walls.

Jon pondered upon the situation; the Queen had announced her intention to marry, yet she wished not to see any men. They had attempted to approach the Red Keep only to be turned away by the Kingsguard situated there. In comparison to the sellswords outside the gates, they had been more gentle as they spoke:

“My apologies, the Queen will not see anyone.”

“We have been invited,” Ser Davos had told them, “Did your men at the gate not tell?”

“My apologies, the Queen will not see anyone,” they had repeated, and they continued to do so until the King and Ser Davos turned and left for the inn.

Jon poked around his stew with a piece of bread. “We must find a way,” he spoke.

“Yes,” Ser Davos yawned, “tomorrow we shall find a way, but tonight we shall sleep - and in a bed for once. I bid you goodnight.” He nodded his head at the King who returned the gesture.

Jon watched Ser Davos make his way upstairs before getting up himself. “I shall bid Ghost goodnight,” he told himself, “and then I too shall seek the bed.”

Outside, Ghost was waiting by the door. Jon stepped into the warm summer night and offered the direwolf a slice of meat. “I am sorry, Ghost, it was all I could buy without causing suspicion,” he spoke as he watched the wolf swallow the meat at once. He was about to turn back inside as a shadow caught his eye.

There, on the otherwise empty streets, walked a woman. She was clad in black, causing her to be almost invisible in the shadow, and her brown hair bobbed around her head as she hurried along. It was only when she shortly stepped into the moonlight that Jon noticed the pin upon her chest; three dragons spun together in a silver circle.

As quietly as he could muster, Jon took off behind her, trailing her footsteps up the street, around corners, down narrow alleys. He wondered if she knew she was being followed, for she sped up at once, her feet taking her around a corner in such a hurry he was sure he would lose sight of her. But then, as he too turned the corner, he was met with a silver blade to his throat.

“Why do you follow me?” the woman asked in a whisper.

Jon held his hands up to show he had no weapon drawn. “I noticed your pin,” he admitted.

“You speak as if you do not know me,” she said.

“I do not,” Jon admitted. He felt he had no choice but to choose the truth. The knife pressed harder to his skin.

“Do you jest?”

“I am no jester.”

“You wish to see the Queen.” Jon must have looked surprised at this, for the woman smiled. “Of course. That is the wish of every man, but especially a fraud.”

“Why do you call me so?” Jon asked.

“The sellswords told me of a man entering the city with an official letter from the Queen. Now, they are but foolish men, but I am Hand to the Queen. I know of no such letter, so therefore no such letter exists.” The knife was now pressed so tight to Jon’s throat that he was sure blood was flowing. Yet, when he glanced down, he saw none. “I will give you one chance only to explain yourself.”

For a third time, Jon’s fingertips stroke across the knapsack. He knew of no other way to save himself, so he reached in and said, “Will this convince you?” and held out his hand.

In his palm, he held a single winter rose. It appeared so bright and frail that he almost couldn’t believe its existence. Of all the gifts he had produced, this seemed the least favourable, and yet the woman before him appeared shocked.

She put away her blade and instead reached out to touch the blue petals, as if to ensure they were real. “You wish to see the Queen?” she whispered. “It shall be so. Follow me.”

Alone in the night, his bag now almost devoid of gifts, and holding a blue rose only, Jon walked with the woman to the Red Keep, and the King thought to himself: I shall now either fail my kingdom or grant it its freedom. He knew not yet which.

..

As the King entered the great hall, he was struck by the sheer size of the Iron Throne.

Made from melted swords, it rose from the marble floor toward the ceiling, each step of the way hardened by the twisted blades sticking out before it. It was more beast than beauty, and Jon found himself thinking that this truly was a seat of power.

The hall was greatly lit with hundreds of torches along the walls. The flames reflected in the stained-glass windows, causing colourful lights to dance all around him. Yet, the further up the throne his gaze went, the darker it got. The shape of the backrest was so twisted and grand that it caught itself in its own shadow, and it was only as his eyes got used to the darkness that he noticed someone was seated atop. It could only be the Dragon Queen.

The King lowered his head in respect. “Your Grace,” he spoke, “I thank you for seeing me at this hour.”

The Queen did not speak. Instead, she slowly got up from the seat and started making her way down the stairs. Each step was slow and calculated, and she stopped halfway, her body revealed to the light whilst her face was still in the shadows. Jon could see she was clad in a long, blue dress, delicately embroidered with fiery dragons. Whenever the folds in her skirt moved, they seemed to come alive, dancing alongside her hemline.

They reminded the King of his purpose, and so he spoke: “Your Grace, I mean no harm. I have travelled a long way to see you.” He lifted his gaze to seek hers, but he could not determine her expression in the darkness. “I come only to ask one thing of you.”

Finally, the Queen spoke: “Many men have travelled far to see me. In this you are not alone.”

“I have heard so, your Grace,” Jon agreed, “however what I ask of you will differ from them.”

“That I have heard many men say too,” the Queen said. “Every man believes himself to be different. No one aliken themself to their peers.” She folded her hands in front of her as she paused, then continued: “But it is true. You do differ.”

Feeling a sense of hope, Jon allowed himself to straighten up. “Your Grace,” he started in earnest, but the Queen’s sharp voice cut through:

“You are different in that you deceived my men, and you tried to deceive my Hand, and now you believe you can deceive me.”

“I have done no such thing,” the King protested, “nor do I wish to.”

The Queen flickered her hand, and a light shimmered in the air. Something hit the ground with a sharp noise, then rolled across the floor to his feet.

As Jon looked down, he saw the ring he brandished when Daario questioned him.

“My Hand sneaked this from your pocket when you met,” the Queen spoke. “Do you deny it is yours?”

“I do not,” the King spoke.

“Then at least you have some honour left. Now tell me,” she said, taking one more step down so that her whole frame was bathed in light, “why I shouldn’t let my dragons feast on you?”

It was then the King realised that the bards’ had sung in earnest about their Queen’s appearance; she had long hair which shimmered like silver, black lashes framed her violet eyes hard akin jewels, and her skin was as fair as snow.

He averted her eyes with another headbow. “Your Grace,” he spoke, “I understand every man in the Seven Kingdoms seeks your hand in marriage.”

“They do, and even common folk have dressed in their finest garbs before approaching the Keep, yet you stand before me like a traveller.”

This the King could not deny. His clothes had remained the same for most of his journey, and tonight was no different. His black tunic and breeches were simple, and his cloak made of roughspun wool to blend in with the townspeople. But here, where every man wished to offer a themself to the Dragon Queen, he stood out for the wrong reasons. He was like a fool who did not know his left from his right, and he reddened under the Queen’s scrutiny.

“Your Grace, I mean no disrespect,” he assured.

“Yet you keep calling me Grace and not Queen,” the Queen noted as she stepped further down the throne. The closer she came, the more of him she seemed to take in, her eyes seeking his body.

“I apologise, but I will not allow myself to deceive you,” Jon spoke.

“How so?” the Queen asked, now on her final step.

“My name is Jon,” he spoke, “but I am commonly known as the King in the North.”

On this final step, the Dragon Queen paused as her eyes grew wide. She was watching the King before her for a few seconds before she spoke: “You are the one they call the Ice King.”

“That is a nickname of mine,” Jon agreed.

“Peculiar. I imagined an Ice King to be blond,” the Queen pondered.

At this, the King smiled. “I apologise for the disappointment.”

“How do I know you are truly who you say you are?” the Queen asked, her eyes narrowed in thought. Her hands slipped to the small of her back as she leaned forward, gazing into Jon’s eyes.

At this, Jon reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a ring of his own. The band was silver, and atop it was decorated with the Stark siegel, the head of a direwolf. “I offer you this,” he spoke, “but also what convinced your Hand to trust me,” and in his other hand, he presented the single blue rose.

It seemed to the Queen the ring mattered less than the rose, for she took the flower and held it before her eyes, watching it with awe. “These are hard to come by,” she spoke. “They grow only in the cold.”

“I did say I travelled far,” Jon spoke.

The Queen lowered the rose. “I get the feeling you did not approach me to propose a marriage.”

The King shook his head. “No, your Grace, I am afraid my proposal is less joyous.”

The Queen seemed to ponder for a moment, then she gestured for him to follow. “Let us speak in a more private chamber,” she said.

It was only then, as she led him behind the throne and further into the Keep, that Jon realised they had been watched the whole time. Alongside the balconies above them stood men brandishing crossbows, each of them with an arrow pointed straight at him, their eyes following him coldly.

..

The Dragon Queen stood in front of a window, her eyes grave as she watched King’s Landing stretch out before her. “What you ask of me is a lot,” she spoke, “more than the men who seek my hand.”

“I would not ask if I did not believe the North to be in dire danger,” the King spoke. He was seated at a table in her chamber, a map laid out before him. On it, she had circled Winterell, alongside with the Wall of the North. Somewhere between the two, the dead now roamed, that he knew. However the Queen seemed less certain.

“You have seen these dead men?” she asked.

“I have not,” Jon admitted. “But my maester has studied the history books. The tales do not lie.”

“Forgive me, but I disagree,” she spoke and turned to look at Jon. “The history books always lie. Are they not written by those who won the wars?”

“The maesters write the books,” Jon said, “they work from a perspective of truth.”

“The truth is not a perspective,” the Queen smiled. “I am afraid your heart is not as cold as the North from which you come. You think people too kind.”

“I want to believe that your heart is not cold either,” Jon spoke. “I want to believe that you will lend us your dragons for this fight, lest we shall fall.”

“My dragons are my strength,” the Queen spoke. “I am called the Dragon Queen. My dragons are not simple cattle to be ordered around. They are great beasts with a mind of their own. They are my children.”

“I apologise if I offended you,” Jon spoke, “but my people rely on me for their safety. I must do all in my power to grant them a peaceful life.”

“That I can admire,” the Queen spoke. She once again turned to look out of the window, this time waving for Jon to join her. As he stood by her side, she gestured at the scene before them. “Look, this is the heart of the Kingdom. Whoever sits on the Iron Throne also sits on the responsibility of protecting this realm. If I take off with my dragons, who shall see to my people?”

“Last I checked, the North was part of the Seven Kingdoms,” Jon spoke.

“Yet you do not consider me your rightful Queen, or else you should not be named King,” she retorted.

The King knew she was right, so he spoke no more, but just watched the city with her. They had been talking for so long that the sun was now rising. In the horizon, the pale light started stretching its way across the land.

It was the Queen who broke the silence: “I am no coward. I believe in righteousness. I will fight evil where I see it. I shall not be broken.” She glanced at Jon, and he saw in her eyes a sadness. “But alas, I find myself in a war in which I am a stranger.”

“You are at war?” the King spoke in surprise.

“The men at the gates seek my hand. This is known. They have all heard the announcement, and they have all come to claim me as their own. Some of them come with ill wills, but many only seek to better their future. This I cannot fault them.” The Queen folded her hands at her front as she sighed. “Understand this; I did not make the announcement.”

The King furrowed his brows in confusion. “You do not seek to marry?”

“Once I did. But the man betrayed me.” The Queen walked back into the chamber, looking ahead of her as she spoke: “What do most men seek from this world?”

“I do not know,” Jon admitted. He turned to watch her walk. “Power? Wealth?”

“Most men seek to leave a mark on this world. A mark that will last for centuries. That kind of mark requires an heir.” She turned to look at him, the sadness once again twinkling in her eyes. “The man whom I was to marry betrayed me for I could not offer him what he wanted.”

“You cannot bear children,” Jon concluded quietly.

“It is by his words that I am now seeking marriage. He thought there would be no greater humiliation to me than for men to ask my hand, only to turn away once they find me barren.” The Queen shook her head. “Now, the bards sing of my looks, this I know. But trust me - if word was to come out, they would sing of nothing but my lack of womanhood.”

“I ask you not to speak of this, I ask you to join me in fight,” Jon promised, but the Queen shook her head once more.

“If I am to leave the Keep with my dragons, it would read as a sign of defeat. The Queen has fled her people, the Queen is chasing the northern King. The Queen submits to a man. I have partaken in those tales before. I do not wish to partake in another.”

The King did not know what words to speak. For a moment, his fingertips brushed across his knapsack as he remembered maester Aemon’s words once more. If only he was to reach inside the bag, he would surely find a magical gift that could convince the Queen to assist him.

However, as he looked into her sad eyes, he found himself unable to undo the clasp. For what man uses magic to steer the will of a woman? Only a devil in disguise.

As he remained silent, the Queen took it as a sign to conclude: “You understand now, Ice King, why I cannot lend you my dragons. I am in a position of strength and weakness all at once. The strength must win, or I shall fail as Queen.”

..

It was the Queen’s Hand who let him out of the Keep. They walked in silence, but as he stood by the gates to the city, he turned to look upon her.

“I am sorry,” she spoke.

“I am too,” he said. “Please, may I ask one question before I leave?” The Hand nodded, and the King continued: “Why did the winter rose convince you to bring me here?”

At this, she appeared surprised. “Did the Queen not tell?” she asked.

“She took the rose, but she did not say why this made her trust me.”

“It is not for me to say,” the Hand spoke. Her brown eyes sought the floor and for a moment the King believed she would say no more. But then she spoke: “It is the prophecy.”

“What prophecy?” he asked in earnest.

“It is not for me to say,” the Hand repeated her earlier statement. “My apologies, you must leave now.” At this, the doors opened, and the King found himself walking the long way from the Keep to the inn, all alone in the empty streets once more.

However, he did not make it far before both Ser Davos and Ghost were upon him.

“My King!” Ser Davos called. “You had me worried. Where have you been all night?”

“I spoke to the Queen,” the King explained.

Ser Davos looked surprised, but he urged him on: “Did she agree?”

Jon shook his head. “She will not lend us her dragons.”

“I feared this would happen,” Ser Davos said. “Can we convince her?”

“I am afraid she has her reasons,” Jon spoke and, before his Hand could say another word, he decided: “We should spend our coin wisely and gather all the weapons we can - we must make sure our men can fight.”

“Steel will not kill the dead,” Ser Davos spoke sadly.

“No,” the King agreed, “but it will delay our own demise.”

.-.

As they made their way back up North, their horses were heavy with swords, and the weight slowed them down. However, they had barely made it to the riverlands before they could tell things had changed. At the edge of the woods, where they had before slept, they now saw signs of ice creeping across the forest floor.

“Winter is upon us,” the King spoke as the first snowflakes swirled through the air above them. “I hope we are not too late.”

“We must press on,” Ser Davos spoke, “and ride all the way through the night.” So they did - as the sun set, they continued, fighting their way through the darkness guided by Ghost’s sight only, and they rested just for an hour or two before sunrise, leaving their eyes caked in sleep. So they carried on for weeks, as the snow grew thick around them, and the riverlands turned akin to the North itself.

At their first break at an inn, they found no fish and vegetables to be served. Instead, the innkeeper could only offer them watered down ale and stale bread. “My apologies,” he spoke, “this is all we have left. Winter came so sudden. I fear we shall starve our way through.”

The King and Ser Davos ate the bread in solemn silence, both of them aware that if winter was to last, no one would starve their way through. The season would be too long for mankind to survive.

On their way, the King noted that the mood had changed. Where before people had watched them with caution in the midlands, they were now scarcely noticed. Everyone was too busy gathering what little they could in preparation for the season, and the bards no longer sung of caution but rather fear:

> Kings and Queens  
It matters Not  
All lives Winter Takes  
It cannot be Stopped
> 
> Kings and Queens  
Men of strong Will  
It matters Not  
All it shall Kill

“These are gloomy songs,” Ser Davos spoke once to a young bard who had entertained at the inn. “Could you not sing something else? The Bear and the Maiden Fair, perhaps?”

The bard only shook his head and replied: “We bards are the history keepers. We sing of what we see and what we know. Alas, this is all we know these days. Ice and snow and death. They say the dead are rising. Would you like to hear a song about that?”

Ser Davos handed him a silver coin for his silence.

..

By the time the King and Ser Davos reached Winterfell, they could barely make their way through the dense snow to the castle. Once inside the warm hall, as he was shedding his cloak stiff from ice, Jon’s sister Sansa approached him with concern.

“Did it work?” she asked. “Did you convince the Dragon Queen to come?”

The King shook his head sadly. “She cannot come.”

“So it shall be,” Sansa spoke quietly. She turned to face the fire in the great hall, a solemn look on her face. “This place shall become our crypt.”

“I will not sit still as the dead approach,” Jon said, and as he spoke he turned to face his men in the hall. They were seated at the tables, looking hopeless at their hands, but their heads rose at once as their King spoke. “No one should sit still and await death. That is no way to face uncertainty. We shall stand brave, and we shall fight, and the Gods be good, it shall be a good fight.” He drew Longclaw and held it up, the blade shimmering in the light from the fire as he shouted: “Men, will you fight for the living!”

And at once, they all rose, each brandishing their own sword, and they joined in the shouting, promising: “We will fight ‘till the end!”

As the men journeyed outside, setting up their defences, Sansa pulled the King aside for a quiet word. “You should seek maester Aemon,” she said. “I am afraid the cold has taken its toll on him.”

“Is he dying?” Jon spoke with concern, but Sansa could not bear to even nod. Instead of waiting for a reply, Jon hurried through the hall and up the stairs to the maester’s chambers.

He found the door ajar, and the maester in bed, his pale, blind eyes searching the ceiling. As he entered, the maester spoke: “So you return, my King.”

“Maester Aemon,” Jon greeted. He approached the bed with hesitation, but finally sat down on the edge as the maester reached out for him. His hand felt so small and frail in his own.

“I am afraid darkness is descending upon me,” the maester spoke. “A strange thing for a blind man to say, perhaps, but true nonetheless. I feel it in my bones. My end is near.”

“Is there anything I can do?” the King asked.

“You spoke to the Queen,” the maester said. “This I know.”

“I’m sorry.” He could not face the maester as he spoke, but instead eyed the floor: “I could not convince her to come.”

“Trust in the prophecy,” spoke the maester.

At this, Jon looked at the old man with surprise. “You know of the prophecy?”

The maester smiled as he spoke:

> “When darkness swallows the moon, and mankind turns on itself  
When seasons fight for truth, when North and South collides  
Then shall the blue winter bloom, then shall beasts rise from afar  
Then shall gold and silver rejoice, and Summer and Winter be one.”

Jon’s hand closed tightly around the maester’s. “Please do not speak in riddles, you know I am no good with words,” the King begged, “please, tell me - is there hope?”

But the maester’s eyes were no longer seeking the ceiling. They had stopped moving altogether, and so had his heart.

It was the first death that winter would come to claim at Winterfell.

..

At first, the dead were a few. The men of Winterfell easily outnumbered the creatures as they approached the castle, and their bodies were slain and returned to peace once more.

However it was as maester Aemon had warned; common blade did nothing to stop them, and only hours after they had been killed, their bodies rose once more to approach the castle walls. They attempted arrows, but the men rose once more. They attempted fire, but from the smouldering heat the dead men rose again. Nothing could stop them, and as the days passed by, a few became tens, and tens became hundreds, and soon the men called to their King:

“They are too many. They will break down the gate!”

The King stood on the walls and he saw that it was so. The dead outnumbered the living, and with every man he lost, they gained another soldier for their army.

“It is a losing battle,” Ser Davos spoke. “It matters not how many swords we brought from King’s Landing. These men cannot be killed.”

“What choice do we have but to fight?” asked the King.

“We need dragon fire,” spoke Ser Davos.

The King’s face grew dark at this statement. “Aye, that I know, but we have none. It is as maester Aemon said; the prophecy has come true.”

“What prophecy?”

“He said that darkness shall swallow the moon,” the King spoke and gestured toward the sky. It was so black that not even the light from the stars could manage to twinkle through. “And that mankind will turn on itself. Is this not what we are seeing? Men fighting their own?” He leaned over the edge of the wall as he looked down upon the scene before him.

There, far below them, the creatures were crawling atop one another, with no regard for themselves or their own. They were reaching and pulling and dragging at whatever their hands could get a hold of. They were trying to pull the wall apart, brick by brick.

“What more did the prophecy foretell?” Ser Davos asked.

The King continued gloomly: “That beasts shall rise from afar which these men have. Did they not journey all the way from the Wall? So it shall all end when Summer and Winter becomes one.”

“Summer and Winter, and Spring and Fall,” Ser Davos spoke, “it is all one to us now. There will be no more day and night, and no more light and dark, and no more warm and cold. This shall be all that is left for mankind.”

“But mankind itself shall not even be left,” the King spoke and turned. His cloak fluttered behind him as he walked the steps down to the courtyard, drawing his sword Longclaw as he strode ahead. There, around a bonfire, the last of his men stood. In an attempt to slow the army beyond the gate, they were burning the bodies of their fallen friends, and to the ashes that rose from the flames, they said their last goodbyes.

Behind them, Jon noted, the gate was bulging. The dead were piled atop one another, trying to use sheer weight to bring it down. He stepped in front of his men, his back turned to them and his sword at his front, as he spoke:

“Men, you named me King. It is an honour you bestowed on me. I have no royal blood, and no claim to any house, but in me you saw a leader, and I have strived to lead with justice. Now, I shall repay your honour with the only thing I have left - my life. May the Gods, both old and new, have mercy on us tonight. We shall not fall without a fight.”

With that, the gate broke, and the dead entered Winterfell.

They came like a wave upon them, and as they threw themselves at Jon, he realised he did have one thing left; one last gift from the knapsack. So as the bodies piled on top of him, he used his last strength to reach into the bag. His fingers searched inside the leather, and it was only as he opened his hand in front of his eyes that he realised it was empty.

Four gifts he had been promised. Three he had used. Yet it seemed he had none left to claim.

It was in that instance that a wind broke out across the courtyard. As soon as the King thought he had no hope left, the dead were blown off him, and he found himself able to breathe once more.

Jon gasped in the cool air which had never felt sweeter, and he opened his eyes to what he thought was the sun rising above him. But the warm light was dragonfire; it ran in streams across the dark sky, and the wind was no wind at all, but the wave from a dragon’s wings.

The King hurried to his feet, and he watched in awe as the giant beast landed beside him, its black scales shimmering in the light from the bonfire. He glanced up across its thick body to the rider at its top.

There sat the Dragon Queen, clad in gold which shone like the sun itself. She looked down upon him, her violet eyes no longer like hard jewels, but soft like water.

“Your Grace, you came,” the King spoke in surprise.

“I did tell you that I believe in righteousness,” spoke the Queen. “I will fight evil where I see it.”

“Whatever did change your mind?” the King asked.

The Queen reached her hand out for him, and Jon grabbed it, climbing atop the giant beast until he was settled behind her. She placed her hand on his cheek, and he could feel the heat from her skin melting the sheen of ice on his face. “You did,” she spoke.

It was then two dragons passed them from above. One glimmered green, the other was as bright as ice. They circled the castle, their mouths breathing fire, and wherever their streams hit, the dead fell to never rise again.

The Queen smiled at the sight, and she grabbed a hold of the scales in front as she urged: “Hold on tight, Ice King, for you are about to witness the power of my children.” With that, the dragon took off from the ground, bashing its wings only twice to reach heights greater than Jon had ever been.

The King grabbed a hold of the Queen’s waist with one hand, careful not to lose hold of his sword in the other, and he watched the scene beneath them in awe;

All around Winterfell, the ice was aflame. Dead men were burning, and they turned to smouldering ash before his very eyes. The few who tried to flee were swiftly chased down by one of the Queen’s dragons, their fire inescapable.

“I cannot believe you came all this way,” the King spoke as the dragon circled the castle guided by the Queen.

“Did you not travel far to see me too?” she asked.

“I came to ask for your help,” he spoke, “but I had nothing to offer but a rose.”

“The blue winter bloom,” the Queen spoke. She looked over her shoulder at the King as she spoke: “You know not of the prophecy, do you?”

“I know the beasts from afar, for I have fought them myself.”

“You truly are misguided,” spoke the Queen with a smile. “The beast from afar are my dragons, for they have come to bring North and South together.”

It was only then that the King seemed to understand the words that the maester had spoken. He looked at the Queen’s golden garments, and then he raised his silver sword. Together, the two gleamed in the night. “Then shall gold and silver rejoice,” he spoke.

The Queen nodded: “And Summer and Winter be one.”

..

To celebrate the defeat of the dead, Winterfell held a feast. As the dragon fire died out, the first rays of sunlight pressed through the darkness, and soon the ice around them started to melt. Men and women from villages near and far came to Winterfell to thank their King for bringing an end to Winter, but before his people the King spoke:

“You honour me, but the honour is not mine to have. When all hope was lost and our future looked bleak, the Dragon Queen arrived to save us all. I ask of you - hold up your horns, and cheer for the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms!” Hence the people held up their horns of mead, and they cheered the Queen on, for if their King said it was so, they knew it to be the truth.

As they sat side by side at the main table, the King turned to the Queen. “When I travelled to King’s Landing, the bards sung songs of you and your beauty. I will tell you this - they did not do you justice.”

The Queen raised her brows: “If you think you are the first to praise my looks, you shall be sorely disappointed.”

“Although you are a sight, it is not your beauty they did not do justice. It is you - your kindness, your strength, and your righteousness.”

At this, the Queen reddened, and she held the King’s hand gently. “Many men sought me for my looks, but left for my lack of womanhood. You sought me for my strengths, and left at my command. When you said you differed, you were right. I am sorry I did not believe you then.”

“Your womanhood is not tied to your womb,” the King spoke, “it is as you say; men want to leave a mark on this world. I too wish to leave my mark.” At this, the Queen wanted to withdraw her hand, but the King held it tight as he leaned in to whisper to her lips: “The mark I wish to leave it this: North and South as one, Summer and Winter as one, Warm and Cold as one, the King and the Queen as one. Peace and prosperity.”

“I gift you my swords,” he spoke, “for I wish no longer to fight. I gift you myself, for I wish no longer to rule alone. I wish to call you my Queen, if you will have me as your King.”

Hence the prophecy was fulfilled in a kiss between the Ice King and the Dragon Queen, and as spring claimed the lands around Winterfell, the two married under a weirwood tree.

At the wedding, the bards did not sing of beauty nor children but a song of love, and it went like this:

> The King, the Queen  
Two souls in One  
The King, the Queen  
A love akin None
> 
> The King, the Queen  
Hearts beat Anew  
The King, the Queen  
Their love is True
> 
> The King, the Queen  
Now wait and See  
The King, the Queen  
Peace and Prosperity

..

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my fairy tale. I had a lot of fun trying to do a different kind of writing from my usual style. I hope you enjoyed it! All the beautiful illustrations were done by DragonandDirewolf (please see her Tumblr for more Jonerys art).


End file.
